New fic: Text, Context and Sub-text Continued - 1/? - H5O/Sherlock crossover
Title: Text, Context and Sub-text Continued
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Danny/Steve; Sherlock/John; Danny/John friendship
Word Count: ~ 2,560 this part
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Slash; m/m sex; angst; h/c - major spoilers for Season 2 of Sherlock!
Spoilers: References to seasons 1 & 2 of H5O and Season 1 and 2 of Sherlock
Summary: Detective Danny Williams and Dr. John Watson continue their friendship via email.
Notes: A sort of sequel to Text, Context and Sub-Text">Text, Context and Sub-text A massive jump forward in time to deal with the events of The Reichenbach Fall. I may get around to the other episodes at some point but this one just demanded to be written. I have assumed a time line and, as with the end of The Great Game, have written an ending which is probably far from the brilliance of Moffatt and Gatiss but will have to do until Sherlock returns for a third season!
Many thanks as always to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta.
From: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Sent: 19th May, 2012
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Subject: What do I do now?
Danny
I don't know how to tell you this - I still don't believe it myself.
Sherlock is dead. He killed himself right in front of me.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you so abruptly. Sorry, sorry.
I'm lost, Danny. I'm so, so lost.
John
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 20th May
To: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Subject: RE: What do I do now?
Do you want Steve and me to come there? We'll be on the first thing smoking if you say the word.
Danny
~
From: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Sent: 21st May
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Subject: RE: What do I do now?
No, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that and I'm not sure I could handle it. Thank you for the offer, though; it means a lot.
J.
~
"Steve!" Danny yelled and heard the clatter as Steve hurtled down the stairs.
"What? What's the matter?" Steve was on full alert, the tone of Danny's voice making his hair stand on end. He was looking for his weapon when Danny emerged from the kitchen.
"Nothing's the matter," he said. "Well, no, that's not true but there's nothing the matter here. I've had another email from John."
"Oh." Steve relaxed and pulled Danny close with one long arm. "How's he doing?"
"I don't like the sound of things, babe; I think we should go to London. I still can't believe Sherlock's dead!"
"Neither can I. And I refuse to believe that shit in the British press! Moriarty or Wo Fat is behind this somehow."
"Yeah, that's what I think. I wish John had told us more but he's obviously a mess. We need to go over there and find out what the hell is going on."
"We can't both just take off, Danny, much as I want to help. Maybe you could go and, if there's any possible way, I'll come later."
"You wouldn't mind?" Danny stretched up and brushed a quick kiss across Steve's lips. "I don't want to leave you but I think one of us should go."
"So do I. You're closer to John so it should be you. We don't have anything too important on at the moment and who knows, you might dig up something useful while you're there. If you want to go, go; I'll take care of the paperwork."
“Wait, what? Did Steven McGarrett just offer to do paperwork?”
“Danny, now is not the time. Go ahead and book your flight to London.”
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 21st May
To: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Arriving Heathrow 12:15 p.m. on 24th, United Airlines. Meet me there.
Danny.
~
Danny was exhausted from the flight but one look at John waiting patiently in the arrivals area and he was glad he had come. John looked dreadful; there was no other word for it. He was smartly dressed as always and had a smile pinned to his face but his eyes were dead. The smile brightened and turned genuine when John saw him and Danny pushed his way past his fellow passengers and abandoned his luggage to wrap John in an all embracing hug. John was rigid in his arms, a faint tremor indicating to Danny just how close he was to the edge.
"Danny," he muttered. It seemed to be all he could manage so Danny took charge.
"Let's get outta here," he said in John's ear. He grabbed his case and carry-on and followed John out to the taxi rank. He was surprised when John gave the address as 221B Baker Street as he thought John had moved out. He was about to say something when John forestalled him.
"I haven't been back since the funeral but there's no room at my sister's and no privacy. I might be able to face it if you're with me. You can sleep in Sherlock's room." His voice trailed away and Danny watched as his throat worked and his eyes filled with tears. John struggled for control and then continued. "You shouldn't have come all this way, Danny, but I'm glad to see you."
"Isn't that what friends are for?" Danny said. John smiled sadly.
"Yes, yes it is," he agreed. "I never could persuade Sherlock of that." He ended with a gasp and turned his head to look out of the window. Danny watched him with worried eyes. This wasn't the John Watson he remembered and the enormity of his loss chilled Danny's heart. What if something happened to Steve?
As the taxi approached Baker Street, John became more and more tense. Danny was watching him carefully and, as the taxi pulled up, he patted John's leg.
"It'll be fine," he said softly. John paid the taxi driver and opened the door to 221 with his key. A diminutive woman appeared out of nowhere and threw herself at John.
"I knew you'd come back," she said enthusiastically. "It'll be alright, John, you'll see." She glanced at Danny and John introduced them.
"Mrs. Hudson, this is my friend, Detective Danny WIlliams, from Hawaii. Danny, this was our - my landlady, Mrs. Hudson."
"You've flown all the way from Hawaii?" Mrs. Hudson said. "You must be exhausted. I'll make some tea." She disappeared and John led the way upstairs. He stopped at the top and Danny just avoided colliding with him. He deposited his luggage on the landing and watched John carefully.
"I don't think I can after all," he said softly. "This was a bad idea, Danny. I'll take you to a hotel."
"Okay." Danny shrugged and picked up his cases again. As they turned to go back downstairs, Mrs. Hudson appeared with a tea tray in her hands.
"Did you forget your key, dear?" she asked. She handed the tray to John and opened the door to 221B before John could protest. "There you are," she said brightly, "nothing's changed. It's just the same as when you left."
"How can you be so bloody stupid? Everything's changed!" John yelled. "Oh my god, Mrs. Hudson, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean - "
"That's okay, dear; I understand." She sounded tearful and turned away before John could say anything else. Danny glanced between them and decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked into the flat and put his cases down in the middle of the floor. John hung in the doorway, unwilling to set foot inside, so Danny took a moment to look around and give John time to compose himself. Danny couldn't help but notice that there were traces of Sherlock everywhere. His violin was resting on a chair by a music stand, sheet music spread open on it. The ridiculous deerstalker was perched on top of a skull on the mantelpiece and there was a knife stuck through a pile of unopened letters at the opposite end. A dark blue silk dressing gown was lying across the back of the sofa and Danny knew it didn't belong to John.
John, meanwhile, had realised he was holding the tea tray and made his way to the table to deposit it there.
"Do you even drink tea?" he asked, managing a weak smile at Danny.
"Not usually and, truthfully, I could do with something a lot stronger right now."
"So could I. There should be some brandy around here somewhere." John wandered off into the kitchen and came back with a bottle and two glasses. "Couldn't find the brandy; I hope Scotch will do. Damn, there’s no ice. You’d want ice, right?"
“John, don’t worry; straight up is fine.”
He poured two large measures and handed a glass to Danny. Danny perched on the edge of the sofa and John sat down in his habitual place in the armchair opposite without hesitation.
"I am glad you came, Danny," he said after a moment. "I didn't think it was a good idea and it must have been a hell of a trip, but I'm so very glad to see you. How's Steve?"
"He's fine. Well, you know, he's still trying to leap tall buildings and throws himself out of moving vehicles with monotonous regularity but he was still in one piece when I left. He wanted to come, too, but we couldn't both leave at such short notice. He might be able to come later, though. He told me to tell you how sorry he is about Sherlock."
John stiffened when he heard the name and then made a visible effort to appear unmoved.
"Well, we should get you settled in," he said brightly and rose to his feet. Danny didn't move.
"I'll sleep right here," he said, patting the sofa. "It's comfortable and I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Sherlock always complains - complained about it being too small." Danny laughed and ignored John as he bit his lip and looked away again.
"It might have been too short for him but I'll fit just perfectly." He smiled as he surprised a laugh out of John. "Hey, I know I'm vertically challenged," Danny added with a shrug, taking advantage of the lightening atmosphere. "Sherlock referred to it as my lack of stature, remember. Of course, he was referring to more than my height but he didn't think I'd be smart enough to figure that out. God, he was an arrogant bastard!"
"He was, wasn't he?" John said and, suddenly, the floodgates opened and John found he couldn't stop talking about Sherlock. He'd hardly spoken his name since the funeral but now he and Danny set off on a trip down memory lane about their trip to Hawaii. John's laughter might have been a little brittle, a little too loud, but Danny could see the tenseness gradually seeping away. Then he made a huge mistake.
"I still find it hard to believe that Moriarty survived that gunshot wound," he said. John froze and a look of such deadly hatred filled his eyes that Danny flinched.
"He's dead now," John said. "He shot himself before Sher - " He leapt to his feet and literally ran out of the room. Danny watched him go, mentally kicking himself for his stupidity. He heard John go upstairs and the bedroom door slam.
"Way to go, Danny," he muttered under his breath, wondering what he should do to fix things. There was nothing he could do; he knew that. He couldn’t ‘fix’ Sherlock being dead and John being devastated by his loss. Instead, he called Steve. The phone rang interminably and then he heard Steve mutter a sleepy hello. Shit, he’d completely forgotten the ten hour time difference! A glance at his watch confirmed it was just after 4 in the morning in Honolulu; he hadn’t adjusted it yet.
“Sorry, babe,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb John. “I just called to let you know I arrived in London safe and sound.”
“I’m glad you called,” Steve replied and Danny could see him in his mind’s eye; sleepy, hair mussed, probably wearing a ratty T-shirt. His heart swelled with emotion.
“I love you,” he said.
“What’s the matter?” Steve suddenly sounded wide awake. “Danny, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, honest. It’s just John; he’s in such a state and it got me thinking what it would be like for me if anything ever happened to you. I don’t think I could stand it, Steve.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Danno. I know it’s hard for you, seeing John like that, but you’re a good friend. If anyone can help him, it’s you.”
“I’m not sure I can help him, babe. I can’t bring Sherlock back; no one can. Promise me - just promise me you’ll be careful until I get back.”
“Easy, Danny, okay, I promise.” Danny relaxed at Steve’s sincerity.
“Okay; go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s fine; I’m glad you called. Oh, and Danny -“
“What?”
“I love you, too.” The words were said in a rush and Steve immediately hung up, but Danny grinned at his phone in delight. And then he remembered John.
The flat was silent and Danny sat and sipped his drink, hoping John would return. When he didn’t reappear after ten minutes, Danny went in search of him. He was diverted a couple of times by some rather oddball features of the flat. The smiley face with bullet holes in it made him stare for a while but then he made his way upstairs and tapped on what he assumed was John’s bedroom door.
“John, are you okay?” There were some noises off and then John said,
“I’m fine, Danny; I’ll be down in a minute. Help yourself to another drink if you want.”
“I’m still working on the first, considering it’s big enough to float the Titanic, but thanks. Take your time, I’ll be downstairs.”
He wandered back downstairs and explored a little more, fascinated by the glimpses into John and Sherlock’s life. Sherlock was definitely a bit weird, but then he’d known that the first time he’d laid eyes on him.
John reappeared a few minutes later, looking composed.
“I’m sorry,” he said politely, ”I didn’t mean to abandon you like that. Are you hungry? I can order some take out.”
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 26th May
To: smoothdog@gmail.com
Hi Steve! John seems to be doing a bit better now. He can even say Sherlock’s name without disintegrating, which is a huge step forward. I admit I was getting a wee bit impatient with him, not that he knew that, but now I know the whole story I am just stunned that he can function even close to normally!
We’ve talked about what happened and no wonder he’s traumatized! I know I’d be in a much worse state than him if you’d done what Sherlock did! Moriarty was behind the whole debacle as we suspected but, unfortunately, that’s the end of that lead as he shot himself before Sherlock committed suicide. There’s a link there but we don’t know what it is. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole mess; my gut is telling me we don’t know the whole story and John agrees with me. It’s hard to discuss this with him because he still gets very emotional when we talk about Sherlock but he’s beginning to analyze the facts and nothing adds up. He’s gone off to talk to someone called Molly Hooper at St. Bart’s Hospital. In the meantime, could you email me the old case file that Sherlock worked on, please?
I miss you!
Danny
~
From: smoothdog@gmail.com
Sent: 27th May
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Hey Danno! Here’s the file you asked for, although I don’t know how it will help. I’ve sent everything so I got Kono to compress it into a zip file as it’s pretty big. I’m glad to hear John’s doing better. When are you coming home?
Steve
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 30th May
To: smoothdog@gmail.com
Hi Steve! Thanks for the file - you’re right, it’s huge but John is going over everything with a fine tooth comb. He has a theory but he isn’t sharing as yet. If there’s no chance you can get away, I’ll be back next week. I’m trying to persuade John to come with me. You don’t mind if he stays with us, do you?
Danny
Part 2 can be found here
Positive feedback is always very welcome!
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Danny/Steve; Sherlock/John; Danny/John friendship
Word Count: ~ 2,560 this part
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Slash; m/m sex; angst; h/c - major spoilers for Season 2 of Sherlock!
Spoilers: References to seasons 1 & 2 of H5O and Season 1 and 2 of Sherlock
Summary: Detective Danny Williams and Dr. John Watson continue their friendship via email.
Notes: A sort of sequel to Text, Context and Sub-Text">Text, Context and Sub-text A massive jump forward in time to deal with the events of The Reichenbach Fall. I may get around to the other episodes at some point but this one just demanded to be written. I have assumed a time line and, as with the end of The Great Game, have written an ending which is probably far from the brilliance of Moffatt and Gatiss but will have to do until Sherlock returns for a third season!
Many thanks as always to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta.
From: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Sent: 19th May, 2012
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Subject: What do I do now?
Danny
I don't know how to tell you this - I still don't believe it myself.
Sherlock is dead. He killed himself right in front of me.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you so abruptly. Sorry, sorry.
I'm lost, Danny. I'm so, so lost.
John
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 20th May
To: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Subject: RE: What do I do now?
Do you want Steve and me to come there? We'll be on the first thing smoking if you say the word.
Danny
~
From: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Sent: 21st May
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Subject: RE: What do I do now?
No, I couldn't possibly ask you to do that and I'm not sure I could handle it. Thank you for the offer, though; it means a lot.
J.
~
"Steve!" Danny yelled and heard the clatter as Steve hurtled down the stairs.
"What? What's the matter?" Steve was on full alert, the tone of Danny's voice making his hair stand on end. He was looking for his weapon when Danny emerged from the kitchen.
"Nothing's the matter," he said. "Well, no, that's not true but there's nothing the matter here. I've had another email from John."
"Oh." Steve relaxed and pulled Danny close with one long arm. "How's he doing?"
"I don't like the sound of things, babe; I think we should go to London. I still can't believe Sherlock's dead!"
"Neither can I. And I refuse to believe that shit in the British press! Moriarty or Wo Fat is behind this somehow."
"Yeah, that's what I think. I wish John had told us more but he's obviously a mess. We need to go over there and find out what the hell is going on."
"We can't both just take off, Danny, much as I want to help. Maybe you could go and, if there's any possible way, I'll come later."
"You wouldn't mind?" Danny stretched up and brushed a quick kiss across Steve's lips. "I don't want to leave you but I think one of us should go."
"So do I. You're closer to John so it should be you. We don't have anything too important on at the moment and who knows, you might dig up something useful while you're there. If you want to go, go; I'll take care of the paperwork."
“Wait, what? Did Steven McGarrett just offer to do paperwork?”
“Danny, now is not the time. Go ahead and book your flight to London.”
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 21st May
To: john@drjhwatson.co.uk
Arriving Heathrow 12:15 p.m. on 24th, United Airlines. Meet me there.
Danny.
~
Danny was exhausted from the flight but one look at John waiting patiently in the arrivals area and he was glad he had come. John looked dreadful; there was no other word for it. He was smartly dressed as always and had a smile pinned to his face but his eyes were dead. The smile brightened and turned genuine when John saw him and Danny pushed his way past his fellow passengers and abandoned his luggage to wrap John in an all embracing hug. John was rigid in his arms, a faint tremor indicating to Danny just how close he was to the edge.
"Danny," he muttered. It seemed to be all he could manage so Danny took charge.
"Let's get outta here," he said in John's ear. He grabbed his case and carry-on and followed John out to the taxi rank. He was surprised when John gave the address as 221B Baker Street as he thought John had moved out. He was about to say something when John forestalled him.
"I haven't been back since the funeral but there's no room at my sister's and no privacy. I might be able to face it if you're with me. You can sleep in Sherlock's room." His voice trailed away and Danny watched as his throat worked and his eyes filled with tears. John struggled for control and then continued. "You shouldn't have come all this way, Danny, but I'm glad to see you."
"Isn't that what friends are for?" Danny said. John smiled sadly.
"Yes, yes it is," he agreed. "I never could persuade Sherlock of that." He ended with a gasp and turned his head to look out of the window. Danny watched him with worried eyes. This wasn't the John Watson he remembered and the enormity of his loss chilled Danny's heart. What if something happened to Steve?
As the taxi approached Baker Street, John became more and more tense. Danny was watching him carefully and, as the taxi pulled up, he patted John's leg.
"It'll be fine," he said softly. John paid the taxi driver and opened the door to 221 with his key. A diminutive woman appeared out of nowhere and threw herself at John.
"I knew you'd come back," she said enthusiastically. "It'll be alright, John, you'll see." She glanced at Danny and John introduced them.
"Mrs. Hudson, this is my friend, Detective Danny WIlliams, from Hawaii. Danny, this was our - my landlady, Mrs. Hudson."
"You've flown all the way from Hawaii?" Mrs. Hudson said. "You must be exhausted. I'll make some tea." She disappeared and John led the way upstairs. He stopped at the top and Danny just avoided colliding with him. He deposited his luggage on the landing and watched John carefully.
"I don't think I can after all," he said softly. "This was a bad idea, Danny. I'll take you to a hotel."
"Okay." Danny shrugged and picked up his cases again. As they turned to go back downstairs, Mrs. Hudson appeared with a tea tray in her hands.
"Did you forget your key, dear?" she asked. She handed the tray to John and opened the door to 221B before John could protest. "There you are," she said brightly, "nothing's changed. It's just the same as when you left."
"How can you be so bloody stupid? Everything's changed!" John yelled. "Oh my god, Mrs. Hudson, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean - "
"That's okay, dear; I understand." She sounded tearful and turned away before John could say anything else. Danny glanced between them and decided to take matters into his own hands. He walked into the flat and put his cases down in the middle of the floor. John hung in the doorway, unwilling to set foot inside, so Danny took a moment to look around and give John time to compose himself. Danny couldn't help but notice that there were traces of Sherlock everywhere. His violin was resting on a chair by a music stand, sheet music spread open on it. The ridiculous deerstalker was perched on top of a skull on the mantelpiece and there was a knife stuck through a pile of unopened letters at the opposite end. A dark blue silk dressing gown was lying across the back of the sofa and Danny knew it didn't belong to John.
John, meanwhile, had realised he was holding the tea tray and made his way to the table to deposit it there.
"Do you even drink tea?" he asked, managing a weak smile at Danny.
"Not usually and, truthfully, I could do with something a lot stronger right now."
"So could I. There should be some brandy around here somewhere." John wandered off into the kitchen and came back with a bottle and two glasses. "Couldn't find the brandy; I hope Scotch will do. Damn, there’s no ice. You’d want ice, right?"
“John, don’t worry; straight up is fine.”
He poured two large measures and handed a glass to Danny. Danny perched on the edge of the sofa and John sat down in his habitual place in the armchair opposite without hesitation.
"I am glad you came, Danny," he said after a moment. "I didn't think it was a good idea and it must have been a hell of a trip, but I'm so very glad to see you. How's Steve?"
"He's fine. Well, you know, he's still trying to leap tall buildings and throws himself out of moving vehicles with monotonous regularity but he was still in one piece when I left. He wanted to come, too, but we couldn't both leave at such short notice. He might be able to come later, though. He told me to tell you how sorry he is about Sherlock."
John stiffened when he heard the name and then made a visible effort to appear unmoved.
"Well, we should get you settled in," he said brightly and rose to his feet. Danny didn't move.
"I'll sleep right here," he said, patting the sofa. "It's comfortable and I'll be fine."
"Are you sure? Sherlock always complains - complained about it being too small." Danny laughed and ignored John as he bit his lip and looked away again.
"It might have been too short for him but I'll fit just perfectly." He smiled as he surprised a laugh out of John. "Hey, I know I'm vertically challenged," Danny added with a shrug, taking advantage of the lightening atmosphere. "Sherlock referred to it as my lack of stature, remember. Of course, he was referring to more than my height but he didn't think I'd be smart enough to figure that out. God, he was an arrogant bastard!"
"He was, wasn't he?" John said and, suddenly, the floodgates opened and John found he couldn't stop talking about Sherlock. He'd hardly spoken his name since the funeral but now he and Danny set off on a trip down memory lane about their trip to Hawaii. John's laughter might have been a little brittle, a little too loud, but Danny could see the tenseness gradually seeping away. Then he made a huge mistake.
"I still find it hard to believe that Moriarty survived that gunshot wound," he said. John froze and a look of such deadly hatred filled his eyes that Danny flinched.
"He's dead now," John said. "He shot himself before Sher - " He leapt to his feet and literally ran out of the room. Danny watched him go, mentally kicking himself for his stupidity. He heard John go upstairs and the bedroom door slam.
"Way to go, Danny," he muttered under his breath, wondering what he should do to fix things. There was nothing he could do; he knew that. He couldn’t ‘fix’ Sherlock being dead and John being devastated by his loss. Instead, he called Steve. The phone rang interminably and then he heard Steve mutter a sleepy hello. Shit, he’d completely forgotten the ten hour time difference! A glance at his watch confirmed it was just after 4 in the morning in Honolulu; he hadn’t adjusted it yet.
“Sorry, babe,” he said softly, not wanting to disturb John. “I just called to let you know I arrived in London safe and sound.”
“I’m glad you called,” Steve replied and Danny could see him in his mind’s eye; sleepy, hair mussed, probably wearing a ratty T-shirt. His heart swelled with emotion.
“I love you,” he said.
“What’s the matter?” Steve suddenly sounded wide awake. “Danny, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, honest. It’s just John; he’s in such a state and it got me thinking what it would be like for me if anything ever happened to you. I don’t think I could stand it, Steve.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Danno. I know it’s hard for you, seeing John like that, but you’re a good friend. If anyone can help him, it’s you.”
“I’m not sure I can help him, babe. I can’t bring Sherlock back; no one can. Promise me - just promise me you’ll be careful until I get back.”
“Easy, Danny, okay, I promise.” Danny relaxed at Steve’s sincerity.
“Okay; go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s fine; I’m glad you called. Oh, and Danny -“
“What?”
“I love you, too.” The words were said in a rush and Steve immediately hung up, but Danny grinned at his phone in delight. And then he remembered John.
The flat was silent and Danny sat and sipped his drink, hoping John would return. When he didn’t reappear after ten minutes, Danny went in search of him. He was diverted a couple of times by some rather oddball features of the flat. The smiley face with bullet holes in it made him stare for a while but then he made his way upstairs and tapped on what he assumed was John’s bedroom door.
“John, are you okay?” There were some noises off and then John said,
“I’m fine, Danny; I’ll be down in a minute. Help yourself to another drink if you want.”
“I’m still working on the first, considering it’s big enough to float the Titanic, but thanks. Take your time, I’ll be downstairs.”
He wandered back downstairs and explored a little more, fascinated by the glimpses into John and Sherlock’s life. Sherlock was definitely a bit weird, but then he’d known that the first time he’d laid eyes on him.
John reappeared a few minutes later, looking composed.
“I’m sorry,” he said politely, ”I didn’t mean to abandon you like that. Are you hungry? I can order some take out.”
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 26th May
To: smoothdog@gmail.com
Hi Steve! John seems to be doing a bit better now. He can even say Sherlock’s name without disintegrating, which is a huge step forward. I admit I was getting a wee bit impatient with him, not that he knew that, but now I know the whole story I am just stunned that he can function even close to normally!
We’ve talked about what happened and no wonder he’s traumatized! I know I’d be in a much worse state than him if you’d done what Sherlock did! Moriarty was behind the whole debacle as we suspected but, unfortunately, that’s the end of that lead as he shot himself before Sherlock committed suicide. There’s a link there but we don’t know what it is. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole mess; my gut is telling me we don’t know the whole story and John agrees with me. It’s hard to discuss this with him because he still gets very emotional when we talk about Sherlock but he’s beginning to analyze the facts and nothing adds up. He’s gone off to talk to someone called Molly Hooper at St. Bart’s Hospital. In the meantime, could you email me the old case file that Sherlock worked on, please?
I miss you!
Danny
~
From: smoothdog@gmail.com
Sent: 27th May
To: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Hey Danno! Here’s the file you asked for, although I don’t know how it will help. I’ve sent everything so I got Kono to compress it into a zip file as it’s pretty big. I’m glad to hear John’s doing better. When are you coming home?
Steve
~
From: dwilliams@h50.hawaii.gov
Sent: 30th May
To: smoothdog@gmail.com
Hi Steve! Thanks for the file - you’re right, it’s huge but John is going over everything with a fine tooth comb. He has a theory but he isn’t sharing as yet. If there’s no chance you can get away, I’ll be back next week. I’m trying to persuade John to come with me. You don’t mind if he stays with us, do you?
Danny
Part 2 can be found here
Positive feedback is always very welcome!